


alone and sublime

by LyriumTainted



Series: Just Deacon Things: W I G [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: 2 rad 2 b sad, Banter, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Please Don't Hate Me, Self-Indulgent, The Railroad (Fallout), face changing liar boy, i cant write but god do i try, i hate the name nora but i dont wanna name my sole survivor, im so sorry, no beta we die like men, sole survivor is an IDIOT, sunglasses to hide the sadness boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:29:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23944723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyriumTainted/pseuds/LyriumTainted
Summary: "Dante, baby, the Inferno is here now,""You know Bukowski?"He swallowed- why did he expect that to go over her dead? Stupid, Deacon! Stupid!"Charmer, I know *everything.*""Alright, Shakespeare, share more."
Relationships: Deacon & Female Sole Survivor, Deacon & Sole Survivor (Fallout), Deacon (Fallout)/Original Character(s), Deacon/Female Sole Survivor, Deacon/Sole Survivor (Fallout)
Series: Just Deacon Things: W I G [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726144
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17
Collections: Deacon





	alone and sublime

**Author's Note:**

> and there was only o n e bed

Deacon whistled- obnoxious, as per usual, -as the last raider went down, watching Nora holster her gun with reckless abandon to scavenge through the area, not even waiting for what always seemed like inevitable backup for the opposing team showed up or to do at least a quick scan of the area; he really had to have that conversation with her again; 'dying because I didn't look both ways before looting a scavver' really didn't sound good in Railroad eulogies.  
"Damn, Boss- if you get this excited over stolen chems and maybe 12 caps collectively, I don't know how you contain yourself in Goodneighbor."

Nora tossed a faux-annoyed look over her shoulder at the sniper, raising a brow.  
"You're just saying that to take the scrutiny off of your burning desire for Hancock. We all see how you look at him when you think no one's looking."

He laughed at this, a genuine one, which brought a small smile to her face as she rummaged through pockets.  
"Ah, you got me- I can't deny it anymore! 'He is the other half of my soul, as the poets say'!" He dramatically placed his arm over his forehead, leaning back so far that when Nora looked over, she was afraid he was going to fall; which, not that it sounds like him, would've been incredibly amusing.

She scoffed, standing up and dusting her pants off. She'd never been able to drop the habit, her pants weren't going to get any cleaner out here in the Wasteland, and Deacon frequently teased her for the action. She adjusted her ponytail real quick, just tugging to tighten it, and nodded to Deacon that she was ready to move on. Always on the go, this pair.  
"You don't strike me as a poetry person, but then again, you don't strike me as an anything person. Maybe an 'I read the newspaper for the funnies section and then give it to my dog' kind of guy."  
They fell into step side-by-side, a pattern they'd developed specifically because Nora enjoyed elbowing him for various comments he'd make throughout the day. It was rare to see either of them alone these days, not that Deacon garnered the attention that the General of the Minutemen does, but even folk at HQ had noticed whenever they weren't joined at the hip.

"We don't exactly have newspapers anymore, Charmer. Diamond City's got Piper, but she doesn't really count."

"Hey, be nice to her! She was the first person to not try to kill me after I woke up."

"Technically, _I_ was, but alright. And by 'not try to kill you', you mean setting McDonough on you the same day you thaw out?"

"Well..."

He laughed again- two times in one day? She could die happy, -and raised his hands in surrender.  
"Bad journalist, good person, that's all I'll say." He liked Piper well enough, but her whole dedication to the truth clashed with his determination to avoid it, nothing personal.

Nora shook her head, knowing she couldn't really argue with him as much as she wanted to; both out of defense for her friend and out of enjoyment.  
They walked for a while, Nora tuning in to Diamond City radio for most of it, loud enough she could bop along and sing if she wanted to without overpowering it, and low enough that it wouldn't draw too much attention- and if she was honest, low enough that she could hear Deacon if he joined in. He did, occasionally, join in the radio while on their travels. Nora suspected he did it only when he thought she couldn't hear or wasn't paying attention, and as such, swore never to bring it up.  
She treasured every little piece of himself that he gave up, she wasn't about to put him on the spot for it. Yet, anyway.  
It ended up being a quiet journey- surprising, with these two, -with just the radio and the occasional humming to cut the silence, until Deacon spoke up, nodding his head in the direction of a mostly-together building.  
"Sun's gettin' kinda low, Boss, might want to start thinking about camp. Unless you _want_ to walk through Feral-Town, USA, in the middle of the night."

Nora paused, contemplating the choice she didn't really have.

"It's not much longer to HQ, but..." She sighed theatrically, "You're _probably_ right, Deeks, I think we'll have to stop."

"Jeez, Charmer, you sound _so_ excited, I love camping out with you, too!" He bumped her shoulder, earning a smile from her as she nudged his shoulder back.

"You know I love you," oh boy, "I do not, however, love scouting buildings for feral ghouls." Neither of them addressed the beginning of that sentence, and that was fine with both of them as they headed to shelter. Really, it was.

.

With any immediate threat cleared out of the building, courtesy of Deacon being way better with a gun than he has any right to be- Nora barely had to lift a finger, not that she didn't take out her fair share of the zombies- standing over a dead ghoul, once again holstering her gun, he smirked at the sight.  
"Dante, baby, the Inferno is here now,"

"You know Bukowski?" She met his eyes- his shades might've hidden them, but they both knew he was staring at her as she called him out.

He swallowed- why did he expect that to go over her dead? Stupid, Deacon! Stupid!  
"Charmer, I know _everything_."

"Alright, Shakespeare, share some more."

It wasn't often that Nora got the best of him, he often prided himself on being hard to win against, but every once in a while she managed to catch him in whatever he was doing- in this case, reciting fucking love poetry to his partner, that she recognized. Deacon has felt stupid many times in his life, but this might be up there as the worst. He didn't like Charmer like that- see? Codename. No attachment.  
"I- you got me, I'm not as well-read as I appear," Liar, "Don't even know who Bukowski is. Just read that in a book somewhere. Figured you might want to change your name again- 'Dante's pretty cool, right? We can both be D's!" He gave a cheeky smile to really sell it, but he could see her deflate a little. If he wasn't so good at reading people, he might've missed it. If he wasn't such a terrible person, he might've felt bad. But he didn't. Deacon tries to actively avoid emotions, especially any emotions pertaining to his partner in crime. Charmer- again, codename. Not in love.

She smiled at him- warm, but it didn't reach her eyes. "That's alright-- guess I just miss old world books. Bukowski was popular before the bombs fell. 'She's mad but she's magic. There's no lie in her fire.', and all that junk. Let's find a bed or somewhere decent to sleep in here, yeah?'

Deacon just gave his usual sure thing, Boss', no smart quips, just nodded and immediately split off- which, Nora couldn't deny, stung a little.  
There'd been a building tension since Deacon had spilled his guts about Barbara and the Deathclaws, how his solution to his wife's death was to wipe a gang off of the face of the Wasteland, but Nora had just figured it was Deacon getting used to having someone know him. The _real_ him, or the most real him that had existed in a long time. She understood, as best she could understand without having been in his exact place-  
She understood the vengeance; Nate being murdered in front of her; the bloodlust for Kellogg when she killed him. She _understood._ So why did it feel like things got harder between them?

The Railroad crusade was for his wife, and as much as he refused to acknowledge that to himself, Nora knew it the moment he'd opened up.  
It was as much for his wife as it was for her husband- and that was okay.

Her deep thinking had rooted her to the floor, staring off into the distance.  
She was only brought out of it by Deacon finding her standing where he'd left her. He raised a brow, barely visible behind his sunglasses, and shook his head. "Leaving all the exploring to me, I see? Then you won't be surprised when I take the bed," He'd said, "Oh yeah, there's only one bed. But we've dealt with worse, right? Exactly, that's the spirit." She didn't argue- maybe he'd expected her too, but she just nodded.

"I'll take first watch, I don't trust that more ferals won't show up."

.

It was awkward. Someone had made things awkward and both people blamed themselves- as they always did.   
Deacon lay on his side, facing the wall, and Nora sat on the floor, leaned against the middle of bed frame, overthinking about as much as Deacon probably was. She faced the door, keeping an eye on is as she cleaned out some of her guns. Her Pip-Boy was off of her wrist, a rare occurrence, and beside her playing music quietly. She hummed along here and there, and couldn't help the annoyed groan when Travis started playing The Wanderer- she enjoyed the song, but even the original artist hated it and what it was about.

She knew he wasn't asleep; Deacon didn't generally sleep when she was in the room, some latent fear of letting himself be vulnerable that they hadn't worked past yet. That's okay- they were still partners after everything, right? It'd just take some time.

"Deacon?" Nora asked, "Are you awake?"

A pause, and then she felt the bed shift and a hand landed on her head- a muffled 'oh fuck, sorry', and then it was hanging off of the bed next to her and she was holding back the urge to laugh. She was trying to be serious, asshole, and you just had to go and make her laugh. Nora shifted, no longer sitting, now kneeling next to the bed, facing Deacon.  
"'There is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock. People so tired, mutilated either by love or no love'."

"Bukowski," He acknowledged after a moment, and Nora nodded.

"'There is a place in the heart that will never be filled, and we will wait, and wait, in that space'."

They let the words hang in the air, neither sure if the other was going to broach the deeper meaning of it.

"Deacon, I care for you. A lot. And it's okay if you don't care in the same way, friends don't expect anything out of friends but friendship, but I’m not going to hold it in until I explode— which, in our line of work, is entirely possible,—“ her humour didn’t really seem to be helping.   
Nora brought her hand up to his face slowly, running her thumb over cheek fondly.   
  
“Charmer, I-“ 

“Nora. Please.”

”Nora. I don’t- I do- but-“ He sighed, covering her hand with his own.

”I still have a lot of ghosts to bury,” He murmured, bringing her fingers to his lips, “don’t take this the wrong way, but can I get back to you in this?”

A mix of disappointment and anxiety fluttered in her lungs, but she found herself nodding- “Of course,” Nora breathed. ”You can have all the time in the world.”

The promise lingered- 

Deacon eventually pulled away, turning again to face the wall, and Nora drifted off, her fingers still buzzing with the feeling of his lips. 


End file.
